


Far From the Tree

by WeebTrashKun



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Slow To Update, family and friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeebTrashKun/pseuds/WeebTrashKun
Summary: After Della's disappearence, Scrooge McDuck did nothing but push everyone away, including his own daughter.Years later, you return to Duckburg to find that your father's changed. Will you ever be able to say the same for yourself?





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: As much as I love DuckTales, I don't own it!

Despite what you'd typically think, being the daughter of the richest duck in the world wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Your father was an old, greedy hermit who spent most of his days locked up inside of his office without ever sending so much as a "hello" in your general direction. The word "money" was the most important one in his vocabulary followed quickly by words such as "profit" and "wealth", not leaving room for anything to do with much else. With this as the case, if one were to ask your opinion on if he loved you or not, your answer would probably be no. At best, he had to be content with you. You were never a nuisance, quietly going about your days in the manor as if he didn't exist in the first place, so he really couldn't be bothered by your prescence and seeing as he was constantly holed up in his own solitary study, he didn't bother you either. You two were more of roomates than relatives. 

However, it wasn't always like this.

You remembered the days when you were a duckling, filled with cheer and a firey spirit, excited to soon be old enough to tag along on expeditions with your father. He'd promised to start bringing you on his legendary excursions when you turned ten, but until then, you would have to be satisfied with the mystical souvenirs he brought back for you along with the stories he had of each death-defying stunt he'd performed to obtain whatever piece he was giving you. Each of those said pieces had been promptly tossed into the garage the moment he had begun shutting everyone out.

You remembered your cousins, Della and Donald, how they'd make time to play with you despite the fact they were much older and that Della would soon be having ducklings of her own. They just stopped showing up one day, first Della, then Donald. You missed them.

You were only around the tender age of nine when your father had shut himself away, but as the years passed by, you grew older, eventually to the still young age of fifteen. That was when you left. Ballet had always been a passion of yours, one you had wanted to pursue since you were little, so at the first opportunity, you left for the most prestigeous specialty school in Paris. You had earned a scholarship, mostly through your father's influence, so neither he nor you would need to spend a single penny during your time there. It was a benifical arrangement for the both of you; you got to get away and he got to further himself from even more of the people he had once cared for. Just like he'd wanted.

You hadn't spoken to him since you'd left. Not one phone call, letter, or visit. He never came to any of your performances despite the complimentary tickets that were always sent his way. Almost six years and there was nothing, just complete radio silence between the two of you. 

Of course you'd eventually graduated top of your class, not that he'd shown up for the ceremony. That was when you decided to return. You loved Paris, yes, but deep inside of your heart, Duckburg was your home. You missed the city, the people, the ocean bay, and even the greasy food from all of the small excursions your cousins would sneak you out on once upon a time. 

What you did not miss was that mansion. Truthfully, you had mixed feelings about the place; it had been your home for years, but it was also where you had been imprisoned for almost just as long. Nevertheless, just in case your father was alive and hadn't written you out of the will before kicking the bucket like you had theorized at one point, you decided to stay on the estate while you searched for a proper dance troupe to spirit you away for your career. Sure, you could've found your own place or simply stayed in a hotel, but this option was a lot cheaper. You were a McDuck afterall.

Approaching the property, the gates opened for your taxi with ease. You had sent a letter to the housekeeper about your return a few months in advance, allowing them time to prepare your quarters and tidy up for your arrival. There was no telling what state the mansion had conformed to since your departure. 

Exiting the cab, you were welcomed to the sight of a tall, buff, and, in your own opinion, quite handsome man exiting a limo parked in the driveway of the nearby garage. Not an abnormal sight per say, you could figure he was most-likely your father's chauffer, so getting out of the limo he had likely taken to get there wasn't anything you'd figured would be unusual. Now, what was unusual was the smoke coming out of one end of the vehicle that appeared to have been smashed against the closed garage door. 

The man sent a wave your way, prompting you to send him a small, polite wave of your own as the cab driver popped the trunk for you to remove your luggage. The man approached, a smile stretched across his beak. 

"Oh, hey! I haven't seen you around before! I'm Launchpad! You a friend of Mr. McD?" The man introduced himself, offering his hand for a shake.

"You could say that..." You take his hand, shaking it gently. You offer a polite smile. This man clearly hasn't been working for your father for very long if he believes your father has room in his life for anyone close enough to be considered a friend. "I just got off the plane from Paris, I'll be here for a few months."

"Woah, Paris? That sounds exciting." Launchpad looked impressed. "Here, lemme help you with your bags!"

Launchpad swiftly lifted your trunk onto one of his broad shoulders taking the other two bags into his free hand. That case was stuffed full of awards, trophies, and plaques from your stay in Paris, so you had to admit, you were impressed he could lift it in such a manner. 

Even carrying all of your belongings, Launchpad was a gentleman, holding the door open for you. You stepped into the foyer slowly, still somewhat in disbelief that you had really returned.

"I'm telling ya, you're gonna love it here!" The chauffer continued making conversation as you followed him through the entrace of the house. 

"Launchpad, who are you talking to?" You blinked in surprise, hearing the distinct voice of your father from your position behind the larger duck. Based off of the miser's question, he didn't have a clear view of you either.

"Huh? Oh, hey Mr. McD! I was just talking to...uh..." Launchpad looked upwards as if he was trying to remember something. He turned to look at you, your trunk now blocking your view from the neck up. "Huh, I guess I never got your name."

"Launchpad..." Your father shook his head, clearly unsurprised by the action. 

"What?" The large duck soon stepped to the side, allowing both you and the scotsman to finally see each other. 

Your father let out a sharp gasp, his eyes widening to the point where you were somewhat concerned they might pop out of his head. "Bless me bagpipes...is it really you..?"

"Um, I sent word to the housekeeper that I'd be coming..." You explained, gently brushing part of your bangs out of your face.

"Beakley!" The old man looked annoyed. You supposed you would be too if someone didn't warn you about having a visitor in your own home. The annoyance soon drained from his face, replacing itself with...relief? Shock encompassed your visage the moment after, freezing you in place as the old miser wrapped his arms around you in an embrace. What kind of sorcery was this? Your father hadn't shown you this level of affection in over a decade, so something was clearly wrong. You awkwardly returned the hug, still suspicious of the man.

"Uh, Uncle Scrooge? Who's this?" It was only at that moment that you noticed the three young ducklings standing in front of the stairway. Uncle? Well, it's nice to know your father hadn't had any more consequential romantic trysts while you were gone. 

"Boys, this...is my daughter." The old duck released you, presenting you to the three little ones. A quartet of gasps rang through the air as the young boys, as well as your new friend Launchpad, looked astonished at the revealation.

"You have a daughter!?" The four shouted in harmony.

"Yes, one who I'm sure is very tired from her flight." An older woman stepped into the room. Nice to know that Agent 22 was still around, but why? She approached you. "Allow me to escort you to your room."

The older woman took your belongings from Launchpad with ease, heading off with the clear expectation for you to follow. You took a few steps before glancing back at your father. The man returned your gaze with what you could decipher as a somber disposition. You silently turned back around and followed Agent 22 into the bedroom wing of the estate.

"After recieving your letter, I took the liberty of preparing your dwelling myself. I hope you still enjoy the color pink." 22 spoke, continuing down the corridor without so much as glancing your way. From the sounds of it, she's tidied up your old room. 

You decided to ask a few questions as you continued your journey. "It's lovely to see you again Twenty-Two, but what are you doing here readying my room like a maid? Shouldn't that be Duckworth's job?"

The woman paused a moment, clearly debating on how to gently inform you of the subject.

"Duckworth...passed not long after your departure." The woman frowned. The news certainly struck a cord with you. Duckworth was there for you when your father was not, taking care of you, sharing laughs and memories; if anything, he was more of your father than Scrooge McDuck ever was. 

"Oh, I see..." It took a lot to keep your composure, but somehow you managed to hold yourself together. "Perhaps I'll go visit his grave tomorrow and leave some flowers." 

"I believe that's a wonderful idea. I am deeply sorry for your loss." The agent proceeded to then clear her throat to change the subject. "Aside from that, I go by Mrs. Beakley now; I've taken up the role of housekeeper. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." 

You nodded, opting not to respond verbally. Soon, you stopped in front of a door. You spent little time opening it, taking a good look at the room you had left behind all those years before. It was just as grand as you remembered, very well suited for a princess, and Mrs. Beakley wasn't joking when she mentioned the pink.

The older woman placed your luggage inside before heading back to the door. "Try and get a good night's rest. I'll have breakfast prepared in the morning."

"Thank you." You barely replied before Beakley closed the door, leaving you to yourself. You released a deep breath. There was a lot to take in. Everything was just so...different now. Definately not what you'd expected when you planned your return. 

You practically collapsed on the bed, ready to pass out and rest for tomorrow.

_________________________________

"How could ya not tell me that me own daughter was coming home for the first time in five years!" Scrooge glared at the housekeeper as soon as she returned to the foyer. 

"I figured it would be a more touching reunion with the element of surprise." Mrs. Beakley replied sarcastically. "In reality, she had sent her letter months ago, back when you were still insisting on pushing everyone away. I figured she'd appreciate a more silent return as she was probably expecting."

Scrooge simply rubbed his temple with a sigh. 

"Um, Uncle Scrooge? How come you've never mentioned you have a daughter before?" Huey asked, slowly approaching the miser. 

"And why is she so young when your suuuuuper old?" Louie added in, not being subtle in the slightest. "Is she adopted?"

"No, she's not adopted and that's none of your business!" Scrooge scolded the boy before continuing. "I've never mentioned her before because I'm ashamed..."

"Ashamed of your own daughter? Isn't that a little...harsh?" Dewey interjected. "She didn't seem that bad."

"No, not of her! I couldn't be more proud of anything in this universe, or any universe for that matter, when it comes to that girl!" Scrooge practically shouted. His face soon fell into a much more regretful expression. He headed towards the mantle of the fireplace, picking up a photo in a frame that had been pushed face down in a fit of rage several years ago. The glass was cracked and dusty from years of mistreatment. "I'm ashamed of how poorly I treated her. She was just a little girl and I shoved her away and shipped her off to Paris like it was nothing."

He used his hand to dust off the glass. 

His daughter's smiling face greeted him in a picture of the two of them together from when she was no older than six. Her tiny arms hugged around his neck as he held her tight. The current Scrooge smiled a bit at the memory, but frowned when he began to remember those years of solitude he'd not only enforced on himself, but her as well. 

"I'm off to bed. You three should get ready for it soon." He began to head up the stairs, brushing away Beakley and the children on his way up, keeping the photo in his grip.

For the rest of the night, no one spoke a word.


	2. An Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos guys! I'm so glad you like this! ^^
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the first one, but chapter 3 should be longer.

You woke up the next day in a groggy state. The time change was really starting to affect you as well as possible jetlag from your plane ride the day before. You glanced at the clock. It was nearly noon! This was probably the latest you had ever overslept in years.

You started the day off as you normally did, stretching your muscles. It was a good routine you'd taken up since begining to dance and it's really made you more limber over the years. Your father may have been an old crone, but you were hoping you'd be half as healthy as him in your golden years. 

After your little warm up, you quickly got dressed in a fresh set of clothing before heading down to the kitchen and dining room area. 

"Good morning, I hope you've slept well." Mrs. Beakley ushered you into a seat as soon as you stepped foot into the room. "I've prepared some breakfast foods for you, but they might be a bit on the chilly side by now, I apologize."

"It's quite alright." You assured, offering her a soft smile. "Thank you, you really didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"It was no trouble at all, my dear." The older woman prepared you a cup of hot tea, passing you a plate of pancakes not a moment after. "Consider it a 'welcome home' gift."

She didn't give you much time to reply as she exited the room. You took a bite out of the fluffy meal in front of you, a look of satisfaction crossing your face. These pancakes were delicious. You made quick work of the stack, practically cleaning the plate within minutes. After finishing, you took your dishes to the kitchen sink, placing them there to be cleaned later. You would honestly do it yourself, but considering you've never done manual labor before in your life, you were a bit scared to mess it up or ruin a dish. You'd have to ask Mrs. Beakley to properly insruct you at some point during your stay. 

Now that breakfast business was finished, you decided to head to your favorite room in the house: the dance studio. You spent so much time there growing up, more than any other room in the entire mansion, and seeing as every other room on the estate was kept in pristine condition, you were quite excited to dance in there once again. You took a quick moment to change into your dance unitard and skirt before making your way to the studio.

Arriving at the door, the first thing you do is try the door handle. Huh? How strange. It was locked.

"Oh, we're not allowed to go in there." You resisted the urge to jump, spinning around to face a little girl you'd never seen before. It looked like you might have to take back what you said about your father's 'trysts' yesterday... The younger duck beamed brightly towards you. "Hi, I'm Webby!"

"Hello..." You introduced yourself in turn, only for a shrill squeal to fill the air.

"You mean YOU'RE Scrooge's daughter!?" Webby practically pounced you onto the floor in a hug. "What's it like to have Scrooge as a dad? Tell me about every adventure you've been on! Can you play the bagpipes? Why don't you have an accent?"

"Well..." You sat up, clearing your throat nervously. You decided to do your best to answer her questions. "It's...an interesting experience. I've never been on any of his 'adventures', no, and I can't play bagpipes either. I don't have an accent like his because I grew up here in Duckburg." 

"Woah, woah, hold on a minute." You look behind you and one of the boys from yesterday was approaching. You were suddenly glad these boys wore separate colors entirely, otherwise you would've mistaken him for one of the other two. This one wore blue. He gave you an odd look. "You're telling me you're the daughter of the Scrooge McDuck and you haven't been on ANY of his adventures?"

A light dust of pink made itself apparent on your face in embarassment. You simply shook your head 'no'. "Everytime I'd bring up the subject, he'd just reply with 'when you're older'...."

"Weeeeell, technically speaking, you're 'older' now right?" Webby's eyes twinkled with excitement.

"I- um- yes?" You blinked, not quite sure how you felt about what the girl was suggesting.

The blue triplet looked towards Webby with the same excited expression. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The girl turned to face him in return. "Depends. Are you thinking of going on-"

"-a super special secret long-lost cousin adventure!" They yelled in unison.

Taken aback, you weren't sure you liked the enthusiastic looks on their faces.


	3. A Begal Boys' Birthday Bash: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (N/n) = Nick name for anyone confused

"So, this raft..." You gestured to the boat a few feet away from you. "...is supposed to take us...where exactly?"

Louie, the triplet donned in green, simply gave a shrug in responce, not even so much as glancing in your direction. "Ya know, wherever."

"Right." You sighed in acceptance, choosing to simply watch the others pack the boat for your journey. Apparently, the first thing to come to Dewey's mind when thinking of taking you on an adventure was this small kayack off the shore of a small beach near the manor. The plan was that the five of you would go sailing on it and use a map to navigate to a small, virtually unknown island nearby...

You had the coast guard on speed dial.

"Hot dog costumes!" Webby passed a few custom-made vests into the boat. You'd spotted her crafting them earlier that morning, but had thought you were just too tired and that your eyes were playing tricks on you. Guess not.

"I'm sorry, what?" Huey seemed just as surprised as you were, holding up one of the vests in confusion. 

"Ya know, in case we get lost at see and one of us, probably Louie, goes mad with hunger." The young girl explained as if the train of thought was completely natural. She looked so proud of herself for the idea. "We'll put these on! Louie hates hotdogs, so he probably won't eat us."

"If that is the case, why don't we simply pack a few cans of food? Surely it would be lighter." You suggested picking up one of the hotdog suits to examine. You'd never had such cheap food before, so this was the first time you'd seen a hotdog up close. Hmm...greasy and clammy... 

"Also, are you saying that Louie would rather eat us than hodogs?" Huey seemed baffled.

"I do hate hotdogs." Louie confirmed, hopping into the boat. He quickly made himself comfortable.

"I think we'll be good." Huey tossed out the vests in what, in your opinion, seemed to be a waste of food if you were honest. A swarm of seagulls imediately flocked the area. 

"So, what do you need me to do?" Webby asked, looking a bit confused.

"I think that's everything." Huey took a look around. You looked unamused, trying to prevent Louie from wasting your supplies by holding a green canteen above his head, who, in responce, lifted his arms to try and grab it, while Dewey hopped onto a box behind his brother. "Louie's got the canteens, Dewey's got the paddles-"

"Nautical leap! Yar!" Dewey leapt into the boat, crashing into Louie and causing the canteen to go flying up and back in. "Nailed it!"

Louie countered, lunging at his brother and starting a tussle between the two. You left the fighting to them and backed up a what you figured was a safe enough amount.

"Relax, we've taken this old kayack out dozens of times. We got this." Huey reassured the girl. 

"Maybe I could be in charge of the map?" Webby suggested.

"Oh, Huey always handles the map. Thanks to ol' Captain Lost here." Dewey popped up in responce, gesturing to the brother he was wrestling moments before. Louie didn't seem to upset about it.

"Captain Lost! Captain Lost! Captain Lost!" 

"Well, maybe he and Webbigail could take turns with the map." You suggested. Despite the fact that you'd never had to share a single thing in your life, you felt like this was probably the best compromise for the issue. 

"No offense Aunt (Y/n), but we wouldn't want another Captain Lost situation on our hands here." Louie rolled his eyes with a snort before hopping out of the boat. 

"Onward! To adventure!" The five of you began pushing the kayack into the water before the four children hopped in. There clearly wasn't room for all of them. "C'mon! Why aren't we 'to adventure'-ing?"

Webby flopped out and onto the sand next to you. You wasted no time helping her up as she dusted herself off.

"I guess we never had to stick five people in this thing..." Louie hummed.

"Here Webby, you can take my spot. Maybe and (Y/n) can squeeze in." Huey prepared to hop out. A kind gesture, but you still felt like there wasn't nearly enough room for 3 kids and adult to all fit. 

"No, no it's okay!" Webby waved him off.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll just go when you guys get back." The young girl assured. 

You placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think I'll bow out this time too. Not that being stuck in the middle of the ocean doesn't sound like a brillant idea for fun."

"Awe, but Aunt (Y/n)! This was supposed to be your first adventure; we can't leave you behind!" Dewey objected, nearly leaping out of his seat.

"The kayack seems to think otherwise." You giggled, giving him a pat on the head. "You three go on. Webbigail and I can find something else to do."

The girl seemed to cheer up at the sound of that. 

"Alright, your loss." Louie shrugged as the other two rowed them away from the beach.

Almost as soon as the boys were out of sight, Webby looked up to you with wide, sparkling eyes. "So! What do you wanna do first? Wanna help me remake those hotdog costumes?"

You opened your beak to speak, but before you could say anything, a bottle appeared at your feet. You wasted no time popping off the cork and reading it. "Lost sailor caught in a deadly whirlpool. No hope of survival. Help." 

"Looks like Webby and (Y/n) are going out to sea afterall!" Webby stood up a bit straighter, looking towards the horizon. She took off running. "We'll save you, nobel sailor!"

You watched as she ran into the water, swarmed by several more bottles. "Um, Webbigail..."

"Shipwrecked freighter crew surrounded by dolphins!? Aw..." She read another note aloud. "...who are tearing us limb from limb!?" 

"Webbigail, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this seems to be a practical joke..." You sighed. The younger looked up at you.

"What do you...?" She began to ask as you gestured to a trail of bottle leading to some nearby ruins. Webby wasted no time following them as you stood back and watched.

Your phone began to buzz from the inside of your pocket, prompting you to fish it out and answer. Perhaps it was a business offer from a nearby studio! "Hello?"

"Yo! (N/n)! What uuuup?" Or not.

"Who...Mark? Is that you?" You blinked owlishly. You hadn't seen Mark Beaks in years. How on earth did he get a hold of your number.

"The one and only!" You rolled your eyes, snorting at his responce. Some things never change. "I heard you were back in town and thought: 'Hey! We should totes chill!'"

"Um, sure..." You answered, a bit hesitantly. The two of you had been good friends growing up, he being one of your only contacts from the outside world when you were stuck inside the mansion all of those years. Separated by those giant gilded gates, of course.

"Cool, cool." Unbeknownst to you, Mark spun around in his swivel chair, propping his feet up onto his desk. "I'll send my limo to come and get you in the morning. Ciao!"

"Goodb-?" You're face contorted into a look of confusion as the phone 'clicked!', signifying the end of the call. "Did he say...limo?" 

The Mark Beaks you new had been terribly poor, definately not well-off enough to afford a limo. Seems like something has changed since you left for Paris. 

You glanced around, noticing you were alone on the beach. "Webbigail..?"

The girl was nowhere in sight. She must've run into the ruins while you were on the phone. You quickly approached the structure, peeking your head in to find it empty. Great. Now all four children were off on their own, potentially stranded in the middle of the ocean.

After an hour of waiting for them on the beach, you began to grow more and more worried about the kids. What if they really were stuck? Or what if they all drowned? You started to pace nervously. 

"Beep! Beep! Hey, Miss McD!" 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a blaring car horn. You look up and see a certain chauffeur waving out of the window excitedly into your direction.

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! A lot of you were probably worried the story was discontinued, but nah. It just takes me a hot minute to update sometimes due to my hectic schedule :P
> 
> This chapter was getting kinda long, so I had to split it into two parts lol
> 
> Thanks for all the Kudos! I really appreciate it! Feel free to comment too and leave me your thoughts and/or suggestions!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm not entirely happy with how this turned out, so it may go under heavy editing later on.


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